“You won the lottery.”
She laughed. “If only.” Yes, the fear and panic had definitely receded. Maybe they weren’t even real. Maybe it was just her body—her mind—playing a trick on her. Reminding her of what the consequences would have been had she done this while still with her parents. Instinct at play, rather than her own thoughts and feelings.
That angered her more than anything. That her own mind didn’t know what it wanted, its own instinct was to fall back to what she had lived for the past twenty-six years, rather than to move forward to the life she wanted.
It would change.
“Has to be a man, then.”
No. Not really. True, her date with Dwayne had set the idea to do this today in action. But the pure rebellion of the act… that was all her. And for nobody else. She wanted a change, and she was starting here. Something so small, so inconsequential to some women. A haircut. A new look. But for her… it was like a talisman signaling her true freedom from her old life. The last little bit of the old that needed to be shed… or sheared, as it turned out.
The hair dryer ran a little, and she kept her eyes closed until the chair spun enough to make her a little dizzy.
“Here we go, sweetie.”
She didn’t want to look. What if her first true act of independence was a disaster? What if she looked like a rabid chipmunk?
Then you’ll buy a hat. Open your eyes.
She peeked with one eye, then opened both wide with shock. Where was she? She wasn’t facing the right mirror—
Oh. Oh, she was…
Veronica’s eyes watered a little, and the stylist gave her shoulders a pat. “I’ll go get your friend.”
She could only nod in response. As she walked away, Veronica shook her head a little, watched as the strands of hair danced, then fell back into place.
It wasn’t short. Not even close by normal standards. Her hair brushed past her shoulders, still long enough to pull into a ponytail or braid. But short enough that she wouldn’t sit on it, or struggle to brush it every morning, or dry it.
More than the practical aspect… she just liked how it looked. She was younger almost. Not too young. But it was as if, along with that long rope of hair that the stylist took off, the exhaustion and fear she had been living with was also cut away. As if she was truly cutting away the last of her old life and ready to step out into the life she had always wanted.
As far as haircuts went, this was nothing short of a life-changer.
How much did someone tip for a life-changing event?
“Oh my… Veronica.”
She looked up to see her cousin’s face in the mirror above hers. Skye’s eyes were wide, a hand covered her mouth. And she had no clue if this was a good sign or a bad one.
“Do you like it?”
Skye just stared a little.
Her cousin, the one who could never stop talking, never hold anything in, was speechless.
Finally, she lowered her hand and rearranged her face until it was impassive, completely neutral. “I think the question is… do you like it?”
She looked once more at the new her. The one without the world’s problems on her shoulders. The one who was ready to make her own choices and do so without any fear. Who was twenty-six years old, damn it, and ready to make love with a man she liked and respected.
“Yes. I like it very much.”
Dwayne stood on the front porch, reliving his late teens. Only this time, he was driving his own—newly cleaned out—truck instead of his mom’s twenty-year-old Buick, and he didn’t worry that a well-meaning father would open the door and interrogate him for an hour before they left.
But when Veronica stepped out onto the dimly lit porch, he found himself wanting to know where his date really went, and who the woman standing in front of him was. Because this was not the Veronica he saw last.
Her hair, usually so long and pulled back into a tight braid, was free and drifting down to just below her shoulders. That in itself was unbelievable. But her outfit was another shocker, and in a good way. A cute little tank top with only the thinnest straps over her pale shoulders covered all the right stuff, and would have been almost modest by another woman’s standards. But on her, it was unbelievably sexy. Maybe it was the contrast from such buttoned up shirts with long sleeves to this. Her jeans weren’t skin tight, but they didn’t hide her figure either. And the heels.
He’d be thinking about those heels later tonight. In his dreams. Or maybe nightmares. The difference likely depended on how the date went.
And that was a jackass thing to think. He held out the small bouquet of flowers he’d picked up on impulse on the way over. Truthfully, he would have arrived at her place almost half an hour early if he hadn’t stopped for the buds, looking like a creep who was too anxious for their date. So they served a dual purpose. And he couldn’t even be remotely sorry he’d bought them when her eyes went so soft, almost liquid with pleasure.
“Oh, Dwayne. Thank you.” She did the girly thing and sniffed a little, petting the individual blooms with one delicate finger. He shifted. This was definitely too early to be having the thoughts that raced through his mind as he watched one fingertip trace the soft skin of one closed rose.
“Well, I figured we’d been dancing around this long enough that you deserved the works.”
She smiled at him absently, still looking at the flowers as if they were completely foreign to her. Had nobody ever brought her a handful of blooms before? The simple, almost mindless gesture on his part suddenly seemed much more important.
“I’ll just slip back in and put these in—”
The door slid open and a hand darted out to carefully snatch the blooms. “Got ’em. Have fun!” And the door snapped shut again.
Dwayne stared at the peephole. “Was that Madison?”
“Yes, it was.” More loudly, Veronica said, “And she can stop spying on me anytime now. Go do something else.”
“Love you too!” was the cheerful reply through the door, just before the dead bolt slid home with an obvious snick.
Veronica stared up at him a moment, almost horrified. Then she jerked, as if she’d hiccupped. After another, then a third, he realized she was trying to hold back laughter, and he couldn’t stop the chuckle himself.
“Oh, what the hell. Let’s go grab some food.”
As he walked her to the truck, she stopped. “Dwayne. Did you have any serious plans for tonight?”
He shook his head as he opened the door. “No. Nothing that can’t be changed. Why? Got an idea yourself?”
“I think I’d just like to go back to your place.”
He thanked God he’d already set her on the seat, because if he’d still been holding her waist, he would have dropped her in the parking lot. He cleared his throat. “Uh, my place. Are you sure that’s what you—”
“I mean, we can just relax, right? Order a pizza or something? Watch a movie?”
Right. Pizza. Movie. Not an invitation for a delicious and completely mind-blowing sex-a-thon. Of course. “If that’s what you want. But are you sure you don’t—”
“Oh, yes. I do. That’s exactly what I’d like.”
Having her home, shoes off, kicked back on the couch with nobody else there to answer to but himself, was going to be a huge test of his willpower. But with her staring at him, those big beautiful eyes working him over, how could he say no?
“Yeah. I’ll take you home.”
***
Dwayne led her up the stairs to his apartment. Twice, he knew she stumbled in her heels, but he didn’t say anything. She caught herself, and he knew that’s what she wanted. Turning around to steady her would have only been embarrassing. So he fought the urge to offer his hand and left her to her pride. But the adorable thought of her wearing heels on their date despite not being used to them was definitely not something he was going to deny himself. A caveman moment, sure. But if a man had caveman thoughts, and nobody knew… did they really exist?
He opened the door and thanked whatever deity was listening that he had been bored enough to do a half-assed cleaning job the other day. He wasn’t a slob like Jeremy, but he was no clean freak like Tim either. The living room, though, was presentable. Maybe some dust, but not too bad. He at least liked to give the impression that he knew how to keep things neat. But he made no guarantees about what his bedroom looked like. Luckily, they wouldn’t be heading in there to find out.
He watched, waited with an unease he didn’t really care for, as Veronica took a slow trip around his living and dining room, stopping to peek into the kitchen for a minute. Then she smiled.
“You always hear the silly horror stories about men left to their own devices. But nothing too scary.”
The sigh of relief was, luckily, inaudible. “Don’t look in the fridge then.” He shrugged out of his jacket, glad he’d worn a polo instead of a more uncomfortable shirt. Lounging required comfort. “I’m going to order the pizza. What do you want on it?”
“Anything is fine with me,” she said, not looking at him. Crouched in front of his DVD rack, she seemed engaged in checking out his movie collection.
“Are you sure? I like a lot of spicy toppings.”
She tilted her head, glanced at him from the corner of her eye. And with a serious tone, said, “I’m willing to try some spice.”
Their eyes locked for only a moment, then she broke the connection to continue perusing his DVDs.
Okay. Was that comment meant to be suggestive, or was his imagination playing tricks on him? She said it so simply, without a hint or a wink or anything to give him a clue as to her motive. Either way, he turned his back so he wasn’t staring at her ass in those jeans while he called in the order. No rushing. You didn’t rush a woman when it was serious.
And especially not one like Veronica.
Not to mention, he still wasn’t sure exactly how his little… problem was going to handle taking the next step. Would getting wild in the bedroom trigger some sort of crazy response? God, he hoped not.
The fact that he had to question himself only pissed him off. He waited until the moment passed before looking behind him.
And there she was, standing right there. Only, a little shorter than before. She’d kicked off her heels, leaving them in a pile by the TV.
“Sorry. I thought since we were relaxing, it’d be okay.”
“Fine with me.” The sight of her toes peeking out from under the hem of her jeans was almost more erotic than anything he’d seen before. And how pathetic was that? “Did you find a movie?”
She smiled a little then produced the cover from behind her back. “
Legally
Blonde
?”
He reached for the cover but she danced back, out of arm’s reach. His masculinity just dropped five points. “It was a gag gift. Madison got it for me one year for Christmas.”
“Hmm. But… it’s open.” Her lips tilted with an impish smile. “Seems to me someone’s been enjoying a… what’s the term? Chick flick.”
“Reese Witherspoon is hot,” he grumbled. There went another five masculinity points. This time, when he lunged, she turned her back to run. Winding one arm around her middle, he brought her back flush up against his chest. She struggled, wiggled, laughed, and twisted around. But he didn’t let go. It felt too good. Not sexual—okay, well, a little—but the fun, easy feeling of playing. Just goofing with a woman, with no other motives in sight.
After a long drought of fun, he soaked up the moment like a dry sponge. And when he realized another minute of this would make him appear less fun and more creepy, he let her go. With reluctance.
She swatted his arm and smiled. “Just for that, I am definitely picking this as our movie for the night.” She gave the DVD player her full attention.
“Haven’t you seen it before? Don’t you want to pick something you haven’t seen?” He walked into the kitchen, found a few dishes on the counter, and tossed them in the sink. Then, realizing they were no better hidden in there, he picked them out and put them in the cabinet under the sink. He got down two glasses—they didn’t match, but she didn’t seem like one to care—and filled them with ice water. When he came back out, she was already sitting on the couch, staring at a blank screen, remote in her hand.
“Here. Remotes are still completely worthless to me. I’ll break it if I try.”
“Figures.” He traded her the remote for her glass of water and sat next to her. Not touching, but close. “Last chance to change your mind about the movie selection.”
“I’ve never seen it. And now my curiosity is piqued.”
“What woman hasn’t seen this movie?”
Her brow scrunched for a moment. “I guess that would be me.”
“Okay then. I offered. Just remember, nobody gets blown up in this one.”
“Already scoring high points.” She settled deeper into the welcoming cushions of his couch. A piece of furniture bought for comfort, not style. But she hadn’t complained about the ugliness yet. Nor had she commented on his lack of decor or pictures. So maybe she didn’t care much about decorations. Fine with him.
He started to fast-forward through the trailers, but she put a small hand on his wrist. “No, I like them. Do you mind?”
Who liked trailers? But he said nothing, only put the remote down and let them play through.
He didn’t pull any of the crappy seventh grade tricks, like stretching and leaving his arm around the back of the couch. Or coughing so that he shifted closer to her. But then again, he didn’t have to. After the third trailer, she was already settling in next to him, her side nestled in against his. Her head right in the crook of his arm. Hand placed oh-so-innocently on the top of his thigh. Almost as if she was nesting.
And it felt good.
***
Veronica was following every instinct she had—which wasn’t saying much—to get him to make a move. And despite her new haircut, Veronica wasn’t really ready to take the next step herself. Or, at least, entirely by herself. She needed a little guidance. And he was ignoring her every subtle attempt.
What was she doing wrong?
Though really, she had to admit, simply sitting here next to him, his body heat mingling with hers, breathing in the clean masculine scent of him, snuggling… she wasn’t all that upset by the turn of events. And if she angled her head just a little, to breathe in a little deeper, take in more of him to create a memory of the moment, at least it was a good second to what she really hoped was going to happen.
As she watched the blonde in the movie work hard to get into Harvard, she had a pinch of regret about leading him to think that she was in the process of earning a degree. But at the rate she was going, perhaps she could finish her GED soon and get ready for college. And nobody would be any the wiser. The dishonesty ate at her gut, but she didn’t see a way to correct everyone’s assumptions without appearing to be a liar.
She turned and soaked in just a little more of whatever made Dwayne Dwayne when he chuckled.
“Darling, are you doing what I think you’re doing?”
Painfully
trying
to
seduce
you
and
doing
a
horrible
job
at
it?
“What do you think I’m doing?”
“I think you might be smelling my shirt.”
Horrified, she looked up, only to see an amused smile on his lips. Well, he didn’t seem weirded out by her. “You smell nice,” she mumbled and started to shift away.
“Oh, no.” One thick arm wrapped around her, keeping her pressed tight against him. “You can’t escape that easily. So, I smell good, huh?”
The flush that crept up her neck and spread to her cheeks was almost painful, it burned so much. “Maybe.”
“That’s good news to me, then.” His hand rubbed down her back, up her arm. Now they were getting somewhere. Goose bumps of anticipation and excitement covered her arm. But he rubbed more briskly. “You’re cold. I’m always running warm so I keep the air up. Let me get you something.”
“No, I’m not—” Her words were lost as she faceplanted into the couch cushion. Dwayne standing up so abruptly left her no time to shift her balance. And without his body there, holding her, she flattened.
Very
graceful
, she thought and pushed hair out of her eyes. Not that he noticed. The silly man was already in his bedroom—she assumed—and rummaging through drawers from the sound of it. Veronica pushed herself up and waited, blowing a few stray strands out of her face.
“Here we go. My alma mater.” He held out a sweatshirt that would have fit her, Skye, and Madison all at once. When she didn’t reach for it, he took matters into his own hands and plopped the shirt down over her head, rendering her blind as hair swooped back into her eyes.
“Dwayne, I’m really not—”
“I should have thought about you. I like the air cold, helps me sleep better. After so many months in suffocating heat, it just feels better. But your shoulders and arms…” He trailed off as he helped nudge her arms through the correct holes and rolled the sweatshirt down to her knees. He laughed a little, then stepped back.
She blew again, using her fingers to scrape the hair from her face. So much for her newly styled do. And for the shirt she borrowed from Madison. The entire effect from the knees up was covered by soft gray fabric. But Dwayne didn’t seem to mind her odd appearance. Actually, he was looking at her a little strangely. Like they’d just met, and he knew he’d seen her face before but could not place it.